


Youth And Their Peccadilloes

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blow Job, Daddy Play, Embarrassment, Facial, M/M, Seduction, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Since Chekov's eighteenth birthday, Bones keeps walking in on him in... compromising positions.





	Youth And Their Peccadilloes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fringewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringewrites/gifts).
  * Translation into Magyar available: [Fiatalság és a gyarlóságaik](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652500) by [onlydeadsoulscantdance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlydeadsoulscantdance/pseuds/onlydeadsoulscantdance)



> This is my first ever Star Trek fic - please forgive me if it's a bit rough. Hope you enjoy, regardless!

Chekov turned 18, and suddenly he was half naked all the time. 

Bones hadn't been paying Chekov much attention, since all of the… whatnot, but things had quieted down - inasmuch as they ever quieted down on the Enterprise. 

And Chekov was shirtless a lot. 

Bones was, of course, a man of science, and he knew correlation didn't equal causation, but… one day, Chekov was eating a chocolate frosted cake, the next day he was sitting shirtless in one of the common rooms. 

Bones rolled his eyes and got on with himself - with all of Kirk’s… well, Kirk-ness, what was a little bit of toplessness?

Except he couldn't get the image of Chekov’s chest out of his head, and it would pop in at inopportune times. 

So Bones would be mixing something up, or maybe examining someone, and he was thinking of Chekov’s chest. 

And Bones would blush and try not to think too hard about it, because… well. 

Well. 

In certain corners of Bones’ mind… well. 

Um.

Maybe… maybe it was sticking in his head for the wrong reasons. 

If there was ever a right reason to be imagining someone's chest, it probably shouldn't have been _Chekov_ , who was all of eighteen and probably didn't even need to shave more than once a month. 

Bones considered it a midlife crisis of some sort, and resolved to go find some company the next time they made landing. 

And… then there was the party. 

* * *

It wasn’t a particularly fancy party, but… well, who doesn’t love a party sometimes?

Bones wasn’t much for this particular flavor of socializing, but even he had to admit that he got a bit squirrely when all on his own in the med bay for hours on end.

So he got a drink and he stood in a corner and people watched.

He watched Spock and Uhura flirt (or at least, Spock attempt to flirt), he watched Kirk… be himself, he watched Sulu charming the (metaphorical) pants off of anyone nearby….

It was all very restful.

Very calm, in a boring kind of way.

There is a comfort, to knowing the people surrounding you, especially when the only thing separating you from the endless vacuum of space was some metal. 

But where was Chekov?

Probably somewhere new, with his shirt off.

The kid was… well, still a kid, and probably getting into some kind of trouble.

Bones was always worrying about Chekov - probably more than he should have, honestly. 

There was something about those big blue eyes of his, and the curly hair, and his slightly nervous expression that just… set off some kind of protective instinct in Bones’ head. 

That was obviously all it was.

Obviously.

He was a good kid - he’d grow up to be a good man some day.

Maybe the kid had drunk too much, and was sleeping it off.

Bones would find Chekov, and then he’d bring Chekov to his room, maybe give him a glass of water….

And then he found Chekov.

Well, more accurately, he found Chekov with… company.

He found Chekov’s back, and Ensign O’Hurley’s face, and it took a few seconds, but… oh.

Bones tucked himself behind a pillar, and he just… watched.

He shouldn’t have been watching.

Chekov was, after all, an adult now, and besides it was well known that Chekov had… a few shenanigans going on, around the ship.

Youngsters were known for their peccadillos, and who was Bones to judge, when he was buddies with the likes of Captain Kirk?

And here was Chekov, and he wasn’t even doing anything particularly… outlandish, just engaging in oral sex with someone else, in an empty room.

It was a bit more...exhibitionist than Bones would have liked (why did his opinion on this matter anyway?) but it was age appropriate.

It wasn’t like there would be any kids around this part of the ship at this time. 

So why was Bones just… watching?

He wasn’t just watching. 

He… god, he could _hear_ the moaning, and the sounds that Chekov’s throat were making, and then there was… gagging, and oh god, Bones was a little anxious about that - what if Chekov threw up?

But then there was more moaning, garbled moaning, from… Chekov?

_Chekov_ was getting off on this?

The movement of O’Hurley’s hips was… full on violent, honestly, and that had to be uncomfortable, and his hands were tangled in Chekov’s hair, and Chekov was clutching at Hurley’s hips, and then… the the violent thrusting was over, and O’Hurley was moaning, and so was Chekov, and... fuck, O’Hurley must have cum.

Must have cum down Chekov’s throat, and that was… oh god.

_I’d have lasted longer than that,_ thought Bones, and then he flushed, because… okay, no, he was too old for Chekov.

He was Chekov’s superior officer.

He wasn’t supposed to… well, he wasn’t supposed to feel like _that_.

But here he was.

And here he was, hard in his pants, just tipsy enough to care, but… no, okay, no, now Chekov was standing up and they were kissing, and Bones….

Bones cleared his throat, and made to act as if he’d just come in.

“Hey, so there’s, uh, there’s more cake, not that it’s any good, but -”

Chekov and O’Hurley sprang apart, and looked over at him, their expressions as innocent as one could be with swollen lips and mussed hair. 

“Oh,” said Chekov, and he smiled, his expression nervous. “Uh, sir. Yes. Um. Cake.”

O’Hurley looked loopy. 

Chekov licked his lips, and oh fuck, but they were… swollen, they were wet, and Bones wanted to kiss him so badly, he didn’t even realize how badly he wanted to kiss Chekov.

When had he started to want to kiss Chekov?

How was that working?

How was _any_ of this working?

… Bones was too damn old for any of this bullshit.

Way too old.

“I’ll be… going,” said Bones, and he turned around, walking out of the room.

He heard a quiet “Pasha,” and the rustling of cloth, but he didn’t turn around, even though he wanted to.

… youth and their peccadillos. 

He was mouthing that to himself, as he made his way towards the rest of the party. 

He had to duck into a bathroom and stick his hands under the cold water for a few minutes, to make the erection go down, but otherwise… he was okay.

He was going to be fine.

Absolutely fine.

* * *

Chekov came into the med bay, the next day.

He looked tired, and his voice was croaking.

“I’m sorry, doctor,” Chekov said, and his voice was ernest and raspy, but Bones could swear that there was a bit of a gleam in the back of those lovely blue eyes.

“So what happened?”

“I woke up with a sore throat,” said Chekov. “Do you need to check it?”

“Can’t hurt,” Bones said.

And Chekov, sitting on the exam table in the mostly empty med bay, just opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out.

While making eye contact with Bones.

Oh god.

Bones put the tongue depressor on Chekov’s tongue, and he leaned in to look.

Chekov’s throat was swollen.

Swollen, almost… bruised.

Bones was aware he was blushing.

“Is it bad?”

Chekov’s tone was downright _angelic_ , and Bones was possibly going to bite through his own tongue.

“It’s… I can give you something for it,” said Bones, and he cleared his throat. “I would also recommend ice cream or popsicles, or even just ice.”

“What’s wrong with my throat, exactly, Doctor?”

… Chekov’s face was too serene.

He had to be hiding something.

He had to be.

If only the goddamn Star Fleet uniforms hid erections a little better. 

He had an erection.

He had an erection that was a bit too thick and a bit too… throbbing to be good for anything.

“You’ve just, um… bruised it,” said Bones, and he cleared his own throat again, fiddling with his tricorder.

… and promptly dropping it.

He got on his knees to pick it up, and then he was looking up at Chekov, and Chekov was looking down at him, and what if Chekov was in Bones’ lap, staring down at him as he rode on Bones’ cock? 

Bones turned redder, and Chekov frowned at him, looking worried.

“Doctor? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Bones barked, standing up too quickly and nearly getting dizzy. “Do you want an STI shot?”

“Hm?”

Chekov blinked at him.

“It’s the standard offer for everyone on the ship once they turn eighteen,” said Bones, and it wasn’t technically a lie.

“What is it?”

“It’s a shot,” said Bones. “To, um, to prevent STIs.”

“Oh. That’s a good idea, yes,” said Chekov, and he smiled, looking a little sheepish. 

Oh _fuck_.

“As the ship’s doctor, if you… that is, if you’re having any… problems, things like that, I’d, uh, I’d happily help you. If you needed it, obviously. If you don’t, that’s fine too, it’s -”

“Thank you very much, Doctor,” said Chekov, and he gave a dazzling smile. “If I’ve got any problems, at all, I’ll be sure to come to you.”

He patted Bones on the shoulder, and Bones flushed again, and licked his lips. 

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I should be good,” said Chekov. “But I will definitely come seek you out, should I have a need to.”

“I’ll just, uh… get that shot,” said Bones, and then he was all business - he gave Chekov the injection, and sent Chekov off.

Then he sat down at his desk, and leaned back into his chair, covering his face with both hands.

The next time he had shore leave, he would go look up some of his old… friends. 

It had been a while since he’d been close to another warm body in a situation where someone wasn’t dying or sick. 

* * * 

“So I caught Chekov and Ensign Baranova in the gymnasium the other day,” said Kirk, as he and Bones sat around a table, eating dinner. 

“What do you mean, caught?”

“Well,” said Kirk, and he waggled his eyebrows in a way that he thought was subtle, but… very much wasn’t

Then again, it was Kirk.

That was about as subtle as Kirk got. 

“Well?”

Bones took another bite of his meatloaf, and tried not to think about what he was thinking about.

Of course, he was thinking about it, but he could at least try to pretend he wasn’t thinking it, couldn’t he?

… he was still thinking it.

Ensign Baranova was very pretty - she had a round, soft face, and very striking grey eyes.

“Well,” said Kirk, “he’s been, uh… enjoying some of the things that come with being older.”

“Youth and their peccadilloes,” grumbled Bones. 

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing around that he’s being caught in various compromising positions around the ship.”

“You should give him a lecture about proper conduct,” said Bones.

“I have,” said Kirk. “He said he’d be more careful, although he hasn’t done anything too untoward in any place too bad.’

“Still.”

“Captain! Doctor!”

“Speak of the devil,” said Kirk, and he smiled, as Chekov came over.

He just… slid into the chair next to Bones, and he was close enough that his knee was pressed against Bones’.

Oh god.

He was eating a popsicle.

It was red.

It was very red, and so was Chekov’s mouth, and Chekov would just… slide the whole of it into his mouth, and suck on it.

He swiveled it around his mouth, and then he gave a loud, noisy suck, and if he had been moaning it would have been like that time with Ensign O’Hurley, and... oh god.

Bones took another bite of meatloaf, then slugged back a glass of water.

“Are you okay, Doctor?”

More of Chekov’s sweet, red mouth, and some of Chekov’s _spit_ was red, and he was licking his lips, and Bones… was elsewhere.

And then he was being elbowed in the side, and he nearly spilled water on his shirt.

“What?”

“McCoy,” said Kirk, his tone sharp, “ are you with us?”

“Yeah,” said Bones, and he more or less shook himself out of the haze, blinking over at the two of them. “What?”

“You’re working too hard, Doctor,” said Chekov, and he patted Bones on the shoulder. “See you later?”

“Sure,” Bones said, and he was still dazed when Chekov got up, presumably to go sit with a few of his peers.

“You okay in there, Bones?”

Kirk was looking at Bones with a concerned expression… which was turning into a smirk.

Oh god. 

“I’m fine,” Bones said. 

“Have you walked in on him with anyone?”

“... I saw him with O’Hurley the other night,” Bones mumbled.

“Oh,” said Kirk. “Is that why you’re so flustered?”

“Something like that,” said Bones, and he was still blushing.

“Oh my god,” said Kirk, and he was laughing - guffawing, truth be told, and that was… embarrassing as hell.

Welp.

Bones glared at Kirk.

Kirk just kept laughing.

“I thought your eyes were going to bug out of your head, when you watched him sucking on that popsicle!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” grumbled, Bones. “I wouldn’t have told him to have popsicles if I thought he was going to do… that!”

“You told him to have popsicles?”

“His throat is all banged up,” said Bones. “It’s good for that.”

“Banged up, huh?”

Kirk was waggling his eyebrows again.

Bones groaned. 

He needed a drink.

He needed a blowjob.

He needed… a lot of things.

Oh god.

He needed to not be dealing with Kirk. 

He glared at Kirk.

Kirk just smiled sunnily at him.

* * *

Bones loitered more than he needed to.

He read a book, right there at the table, and he slowly at an entire plate of peanut brittle… until he finally had to admit defeat and go to bed.

Why was he mooching around like this, anyway? 

What was he worried about?

… maybe he was overthinking this. 

And there was Chekov, waiting outside his door.

“Doctor,” said Chekov, and he was smiling.

His mouth was still stained red.

Oh… no.

“Ensign,” said Bones, and he cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

“I was thinking about what you were saying, Doctor,” said Chekov. 

“Yes?” 

They were both standing in front of the door to Bones’ quarters.

Bones’ heart was beating very fast.

“About how you offer counseling.”

“That’s usually done in the med bay,” said Bones, but then Chekov’s face fell, just a bit, and Bones found himself saying, “but you’re always welcome in my quarters.”

Chekov beamed - an actual _beam_ \- and Bones flushed, and opened the door to his quarters.

Chekov followed after him, and he sat down on one of Bones’ chairs.

Bones sat across from him, and looked at him, eye to eye.

“So what’s the problem?”

Bones had left most of the lights off - he was tired, and he wanted to take off his pants.

_He wanted Chekov to take his pants off for him._

Bones’ cock jumped and he resisted the urge to glare at it.

“I believe there is someone who has feelings for me,” said Chekov, his tone earnest.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” said Chekov. “I can tell. And I would very much like some advice on how to approach them.”

“Well,” said Bones, and he tried to keep his tone steady and casual, “I don’t know how you kids are doing it these days, but I’ve always found it helps to just… be straightforward.”

“Aren’t you divorced?”

“Well, she disagreed. On that technique, I mean.”

“So if, for example, I told them that I found them _quite_ attractive and would very much like them to take me to bed…?”

“... maybe buy them a drink first, at least,” said Bones.

“But, you see, the problem is, it’s already too late to get any kind of drinks, unless I used the replicator. Does that count?”

“I suppose it, uh, it could,” said Bones.

“Well,” said Chekov, “I would like to offer you a drink, then. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

Bones’ heart was beating very fast.

“How is your throat feeling?”

When in doubt, go into doctor mode.

“Oh, it’s all healed up,” Chekov said, his tone earnest. “I took your advice, about the popsicles.”

“Is there anything else I can offer you, Chekov?”

“Please, call me Pavel,” said Chekov - said _Pavel_. “Since we’re in private.”

“Right,” said Bones, and he cleared his throat.

“In Russia,” said Chekov, and he was looking slightly bashful, but also… well, Bones couldn’t read the rest of his face, “in Russia, we do a thing with names.”

“Do we?”

“When I was very young, I was called Pasha,” said Pavel. “It is… a term of endearment, between an older person and a younger person, or between lovers.”

“Is that so?”

Oh god.

That would also explain it with O’Hurley.

Um.

And then… and then Chekov (Pavel? Pasha?) was pressing closer, and then they were kissing.

Pavel’s mouth tasted like the red popsicle - it didn’t taste like any kind of flavor, just “red,” like the ones from when Bones himself was a kid, and then Pavel was… was straddling him, and kissing him with the kind of desperate sweetness that one can only find in the very young.

Bones pulled back, looking Pavel in the face, panting.

He had a million and a half things he wanted to say, from _Why me?_ to _I’m way too old for you, kid_.

What popped out of his mouth was “red,” because of course his brain would fail him at a time like this.

Of course.

“Yes, it was a red popsicle,” said Pavel, and he grinned, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. I should have drunk some water.”

“Why are you kissing me?”

“Because I know you were watching me with O’Hurley the other night,” said Pavel, as if that was just a little tidbit of information he was sharing. 

_There’s a message from engineering._

_We are approaching an asteroid belt on the starboard side._

_I know you were watching me with O’Hurley the other night._

“I’m very sorry,” Bones said, and he was… he was blushing harder.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was… I was intruding on your privacy, that was… that was wrong, I’m -”

And Pavel was kissing him again.

Pavel’s tongue was in his mouth, and Pavel’s hands were in his hair, and Pavel’s hips were grinding against Bones’, and oh, that… that felt good.

Pavel’s ass was soft, and it was pressing right up where it was appreciated, and... oh, fuck, Bones was being stupid.

He was being so fucking stupid, but… how was he supposed to stop?

His hands were on the arms of the chair.

He should have been gently pushing Pavel off, telling him that no, this wasn’t the proper way for people with their type of age gap to behave, that Pavel was eighteen and Bones… very much wasn’t, that there were younger, prettier people for Pavel to pursue.

But… but he wasn’t.

He held on to the arms of the chair, and he turned his face up, to look Pavel in the face.

“I’m too old for you,” Bones said.

“You still seem to be in working order,” said Pavel, and he ground down purposefully. “Young or old, that certainly seems to be disagree.”

“It’s got a mind of its own,” Bones said, his voice rough, and then he was putting his hands on Pavel’s hips.

To keep him from falling, obviously.

It would be embarrassing to explain it, if Pavel fell over, hit his head, and then they’d have to explain it all and it would be awkward and....

And Pavel was kissing him again.

Pavel was kissing him, and it wasn’t the same deep kissing, it was little pecks, little swipes of the tongue.

“I’m your superior officer,” Bones said, when Pavel pulled back to take a breath. 

“Not right now, you’re not,” said Pavel. “Right now… right now, you’re just you and I’m just me. Unless… you want to be my superior officer?”

And Pavel fluttered his eyelashes.

“... no,” said Bones.

Pavel paused.

“No as in you want me to get out?”

Pavel looked unsure, for the first time - anxiety raced across his face, like a storm. 

Bones didn’t say anything.

Um.

“I… I’m not asking you to leave,” said Bones, and that was probably a dumb thing to say, but… he was too far gone.

He’d been too far gone since he’d seen Pavel’s bent back. 

“So what are you asking?”

“I’m not… I’m not your superior officer,” said Bones. “RIght now, I’m not. I don’t… I don’t want that.”

“It would be alright if you did,” said Pavel. 

“But I don’t,” Bones said, his voice a bit firmer. “And… before we do anything else, I want to find out why you’re interested in me, beyond your general… youthful peccadillos.” 

Pavel licked his lips, and he looked embarrassed.

“You’re very… smart,” he told Bones, and he was shifting in Bones’ lap, grinding his erection into Bones’ belly, possibly unconsciously, possibly on purpose. “And you give off such a… paternal aura, which I have found very alluring, since I first joined the ship. I know, however, that you are a very… principled person, and would not even entertain the idea of any type of… thing, if I were below the age of majority.”

Bones raised an eyebrow.

“Paternal?”

“I want to sit in your lap and call you Papa,” said Pavel, and he batted his eyelashes again.

… and Bones’ cock twitched.

Practically an orgasmic twitch.

“Is that what you want, Papa?” 

Pavel licked his lips.

Bones opened his mouth to say something… and couldn’t.

“Papa,” said Pavel, and now he was… he was _getting off of Bones’ lap,_ oh god.

Pavel’s hands were on Bones’ inner thighs, pushing them open, and he was looking up at Bones. 

“Papa,” Pavel said again, “Papa, can you show me how to do it right?”

“D-d-do it right?”

Pavel had seemed to be doing pretty well, judging by O’Hurley’s orgasm.

“Papa, you saw, remember? My throat was all messed up.”

And now Pavel was… undoing Bones’ pants, and Bones wasn’t stopping him.

Didn’t stop Pavel from taking his cock out, and oh god, that was… that was his cock, in Pavel’s hands. 

Bones finally moved.

He rested his hand on top of Pavel’s head, the hair soft and curly under his palm.

“Pasha,” said Bones, and the naem rolled off of his tongue way too easily, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Papa,” said Pavel, and his grin was wicked. “You might just die if I don’t do anything.”

“I’m a big boy,” said Bones, “I can take care of myself, if I need to.”

“But why should you take care of yourself, Papa, when you’ve got Pasha to take care of you?”

And Bones’ twitched again.

Oh _god_ , he was a dirty pervert.

He was the most disgusting, youth fetishizing, dirty old man that ever… oh….

Pavel’s lips were wrapping around the head of Bones’ cock, his tongue under Bones’ foreskin, and Bones moaned, his hips twitching, and then he was resting his hand on the back of Pavel’s head, as Pavel took him down slowly, carefully.

“Pasha,” Bones said, his voice careful, “don’t do it too quickly. You can make yourself gag.”

Pavel pulled off of Bones’ cock, his hand wrapped around Bones’ cock, jerking it off slowly, with sweet, smooth strokes.

“Yes, Papa,” said Pavel, and then… then he was back on, sucking, bobbing his head, drooling down his chin and making filthy, wet noises.

Bones moaned, and he tried not to cum in two seconds, tried not to thrust.

He kept murmuring instructions to Pavel - “ _yeah, do that with your tongue again,_ _yeah, take it a little deeper_ , and then… oh, fuck….

“Pavel, you’re… oh, Pasha, good boy, good… boy, good boy, Pasha, please… don’t stop, don’t stop, your mouth… right… there, please….”

“Papa likes his Pasha’s mouth?”

Pavel looked up at Bones through his eyelashes, and he took the head of Bones’ cock into his mouth, and he sucked on it, a long, hard suck.

It took all of Bones’ willpower not to thrust his hips forward.

God, Pavel felt so good inside - his mouth was wet and hot and sucking, and it was like every kind of forbidden fruit. 

If you could fuck forbidden fruit.

He’d read that, in a story, a long time ago.

But his brain was going on a tangent, and that wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was that… he was going to cum.

He was going to cum - it was already beginning to build at the base of his spine, deep in his belly, and he was already curling his toes he was already… oh god….

“I’m gonna cum, Pasha, I’m so….”

“Cum on my face, Papa, cum on my face, please, cum on your Pasha’s face, please!”

And Bones stared down into those gorgeous blue eyes, and he was lost.

He came, his back arching, his heels digging into his own carpet, and his hips stuttered forward, as he came across Pavel’s face, and his hands were tangled in Pavel’s hair, and then he was slumping back, and Pavel was… Pavel was leaning back, pulling his cock out of his pants, and oh no, that wouldn’t do.

Bones was on the floor, and he was kissing Pavel, his own cum on his face, but he was jerking Pavel off carefully, almost mechanically - Pavel was circumcised, which was unexpected, but… well, Bones wasn’t going to judge.

And then Pavel was crying out, his gorgeous face (still smeared with cum), and then it was breaking open like an egg, and then he was arching his back, humping Bones’ hand, and he was cumming across Bones’ hand, dripping down Bones’ knuckles.

“Oh,” Pavel said, his voice thick. “Did I do good, Papa?”

“You did very well, Pasha,” said Bones, and he leaned down, and he kissed Pavel on the forehead. 

“Thank you,” said Pavel, and then he was giggling, stretching out.

And Bones was… on the floor of his quarters, covered in semen.

“Um,” said Bones. 

Pavel looked over at Bones, and he smiled at Bones, all ruffled curly hair and swollen, red lips. 

“You’re not that old, y’know,” he said, his voice cheerful.

Bones groaned, and covered his face with his own hands, flat on his back on the floor. 

Youth and their peccadilloes. 

Which he was now involved in.

Of course.


End file.
